Chapter 520: The Evil Coin

"Wine! This old man wants wine!"

The cell holding Fan Chong had grown foul and stinking. The great Lord Fan, who once bestrode the world, had become a tiger in a cage. With his ideals shattered, he sank into utter despondency.

The meals Diwu Lun provided him were not bad — every meal had a soup and two dishes, with as much rice as he could eat, and occasionally even meat — but what Fan Chong craved most was wine.

Only wine could carry Fan Chong back to the past, back to those poverty-stricken days when his wife and children were still alive, back to the time when thousands of Red Eyebrow brothers and sisters thronged around him.

Diwu Lun would occasionally send one or two surrendered Red Eyebrow attendants to see Fan Chong and tell him what was happening outside. Diwu Lun was a butcher; Fan Chong's direct loyalists had been nearly wiped out, but most of the Red Eyebrow Army outside that core had survived. After surrendering, they were broken up and sent to various places to farm military colonies. Though they lived like slaves, at least their lives were spared.

Fan Chong's only response was to hurl his earthenware rice bowl hard at them.

"The true Red Eyebrows are all dead."

"If being slaves and bondservants from the start could have satisfied us, why would we have raised troops in the first place?"

The dream of the Blessed Land had thoroughly shattered. He was grieved, he was furious, yet his pride would not let Fan Chong choose suicide — until the cell door creaked open once more. Before Fan Chong could burst out cursing, he saw a white-haired old man slowly walk in.

Fan Chong stayed his hand, staring fixedly at the old fellow, watching the man he knew as Wang Mang walk to the mat before the cage, kneel behind the low table, and begin slowly arranging the hem of his robe.

Wang Mang had none of the verbal sparring he had shown with Dou Rong, nor the martyr's resolve he had felt before meeting Diwu Lun. Facing Fan Chong, all that remained was a guilty conscience; he did not even dare raise his head to meet the giant Fan's eyes.

Had the Red Eyebrows been victorious, Wang Mang could have calmly declared his identity. But now, two failures — what was there to say? What point was there in speaking?

The two remained silent for a long time. It was Zhu Di, assigned to record with brush and paper at the side, who broke the stillness. He gave a light cough and said, "Fan Chong, His Majesty has decreed that you are now one of the witnesses. Every word spoken between you and Wang... Elder Wang shall serve as court testimony for his conviction."

Fan Chong ignored Zhu Di. Only after a long while did he speak. "Old Tian, are you really Wang Mang?"

As if meeting for the first time, Wang Mang finally raised his head and bowed with clasped hands toward Fan Chong inside the cage. "Wang Jujun, Son of Heaven of the Xin, here meets the Grand Duke of the Red Eyebrows, the giant Fan."

It was truly disorienting. Wang Mang was the mortal enemy Fan Chong had once most yearned to kill with his own hands — his perverse misrule had destroyed the Red Eyebrows' lives, driven them to rise in revolt, and countless had died under the Xin armies' suppression.

Yet the man before him was also the Libationer and military advisor he had trusted and relied upon. Fan Chong knew perfectly well that without the appearance of "Old Tian," the Red Eyebrow Army would have collapsed from having no direction as soon as it reached Nanyang!

Wang Mang had painted a pie called "the Blessed Land," and Fan Chong had actually believed it. So, all these years — what exactly had he been rebelling against?

Fan Chong had countless questions. Had Wang Mang been using him? What was his purpose? Was the Blessed Land a lie? Why had he chosen the Red Eyebrows?

Yet at this moment, they suddenly ceased to matter.

The Red Eyebrow Army had been defeated and destroyed. What use was there in speaking of those things now?

Only one thing remained, something that had baffled Fan Chong for years, the very thing that had ultimately driven him to become an outlaw and rise in revolt.

"Wang Mang."

"Back then, why did you keep changing the coinage over and over? Did you truly not know that every change cost countless commoners their lives? Could it be that you did it deliberately, to drive us to our deaths?"

At these words, Wang Mang, who had been holding back a bellyful of things to say, seemed stung. He let out a sigh and then spoke a sentence that, upon hearing it, made Fan Chong's blood pressure surge and made him wish he could burst out of the cage and beat the old man to death on the spot!

"Grand Duke Fan, I... I reformed the currency precisely to save poor commoners like you!"

If one insisted on Wang Mang stating his original intent in reforming the currency, it was certainly for the public good.

After pondering a moment, he began to pour his heart out to Fan Chong. "At that time, the Han wuzhu coins circulated throughout the realm. Over dynasty after dynasty, no one knew how many coins had been minted."

"In the treasuries, there were routinely four billion in the Capital Treasury, two and a half billion in the Water Balance Treasury, and one and eight-tenths billion in the Privy Treasury. The court collected over four billion more in taxes each year. The total coinage under heaven must have been at least forty billion, no?"

Fan Chong's eyes widened. These figures were simply too vast for him.

Yet as the Han house declined day by day, by the time Wang Mang first took power, he was stunned to discover that although the Three Offices of the Water Balance Commandant were minting coins day and night without rest, the coins collected in taxes grew fewer and fewer, and the coins stored in the treasuries dwindled by the day.

"I thought it strange at the time. Even allowing for constant wear and damage, the total coinage under heaven must surely have been increasing. Since it was not with the court, where had it gone?"

Wang Mang ground his teeth. "Later, after I was driven from the court, it was only when I was in Nanyang that I understood. The powerful families and rich merchants controlled the majority of the wuzhu coins in the realm."

"They used these coins to annex land, to buy and sell slaves, to indulge in the most extravagant luxuries."

Annexation, in turn, stripped small farmers of their land, reducing them to bondservants and decreasing tax revenue. In such a vicious cycle, the court's money grew less and less, its finances so strained that it could not even cover officials' salaries, let alone accomplish anything.

When Wang Mang was in Xindu, he read the works of Jia Shan and Chao Cuo, and suddenly had an awakening!

Jia Shan said that currency must belong to royal authority and cannot be shared with the people. Chao Cuo held that the value of currency lay in the Emperor using it to stabilize the realm, whereas powerful families, by hoarding it to exploit the common people, made coinage an instrument of tyranny!

Wang Mang felt he had at last seen clearly the cause of the realm's decline. The problem lay in land and bondservants, and coinage was the medium that facilitated annexation and trade!

And so, when Wang Mang returned to power, he made his resolve.

Though now a destitute old man who had lost everything, as Wang Mang spoke of that moment, his blood still boiled. He reached a hand forward as if to seize something. "I would snatch the coinage back from the powerful families and rich merchants, and place it once more in the hands of the court!"

Take back all the currency under heaven, and the rich would naturally have no money to annex land, buy bondservants, or lend at usury. What simple logic! Wang Mang was truly a genius.

But the court was not a bandit; it had laws and statutes. It could not rob openly...

Then rob in secret!

Wang Mang took up the methods used by Emperor Wu of Han to fleece the powerful families and marquises. After becoming Duke Who Pacifies the Han, he minted overvalued large coins and issued three types of knife coins to circulate alongside the old wuzhu coins. One engraved knife coin was legally exchangeable for five thousand wuzhu coins. The cost of minting was low, yet it could ceaselessly wrest coinage back from the hands of the rich! He bled them until they howled!

At the same time, with considerable cunning, he confiscated gold, hoarding most of the realm's gold in his own hands and pegging the value of currency to the gold price, practically implementing a gold standard. In Wang Mang's view, he now had the backing to set coin values at will!

Through such melting, minting, and exchanging — one into a thousand, a thousand into a million — the scattered coins among the people were swiftly plundered clean. The court's finances grew ample, and Wang Mang swelled with pride, convinced he was indeed a true sage. With a minor stratagem, he had resolved a stubborn ailment that had plagued the Han for over a century. If he did not become Emperor, could he face the people of the realm?

Yet after he completed the usurpation of the Han, his second and third currency reforms, intended to replicate this success, were utter failures. The second was politically motivated, aimed at eradicating remnants of the Liu Han, but the powerful families and merchants, now wise to the game, began minting counterfeits in response — of better quality than the court's own — rendering Wang Mang's coinage nominal.

The leeks had grown clever and were no longer easy to cut! The third reform was aimed at counterfeiters, creating twenty-eight types of currency — let's see you forge those! But this caused him to lose control entirely. The common people, unable to bear the complexity, simply resorted to barter, truly regressing back to the age of the Three Dynasties.

Wang Mang had no choice but to implement a fourth reform. The new Huo Quan coins resembled wuzhu coins and weighed five zhu. Having labored so hard to change the realm, had he not just changed it back? It was an overcorrection, and it was precisely that reform that drove Fan Chong to become an outlaw and revolt.

Wang Mang recounted the successes and failures of his currency reforms. Fan Chong listened for a long time, understanding little of what he heard, but he grasped the general meaning. He merely shrugged his shoulders and laughed, the laughter growing louder and louder, as though Wang Mang were the most ridiculous jester under heaven.

"Wang Mang, oh Wang Mang."

"Though I don't understand all this talk, even a coarse man like me knows that the powerful families could annex land and buy slaves not because they had money."

Then why?

Fan Chong recalled those bitter years and cursed. "It was because they had land, houses, livestock, tools, grain, workshops, and bondservants! Their estates were so vast — millet fields, mulberry groves, fish ponds, cloth workshops, even ironworks, everything complete. Even without money, even without trading with the outside, they could still live perfectly well."

"But what about us?" He gripped the bars of the cage, his voice rising. "We had to pay taxes, poll taxes, and suan taxes. After enduring bitter hardship all year, we'd cut firewood and sell grain to scrape together a little, and you'd abolish it in the blink of an eye. By the time the news reached Haidai, using the old coins was already a crime. The powerful and noble colluded with the officials, having long since exchanged for the new coins, or even minted some themselves. The common folk couldn't tell real from fake, and the blame was shifted onto us. If we didn't rebel, we could only wait to die!"

Wang Mang said nothing more. Every thing has its vanquisher, and he was shamed into lowering his head by Fan Chong's scolding.

It was only after he fell from power and wandered among the common people that he understood this simple truth — which was why, within the Red Eyebrow Army, he had shifted the target of confiscation to the lands and estates of the powerful and wealthy.

Just at that moment, from outside the cell door came a burst of applause. Someone entered, clapping his hands — it was none other than Diwu Lun, who had been eavesdropping for quite some time!

"Well said, giant Fan."

"Wang Weng's intentions were good, but he never imagined that reforming the currency would not be a targeted strike against the powerful and wealthy — instead, no one under heaven could escape it. The rich had their wuzhu coins swept up by the large-denomination coins, and the common people did too — and the blow they suffered was far heavier!"

"Because the reason powerful families and the rich sit on vast fortunes — with coin and currency being only the surface — is that at root, they control…"

Diwu Lun stopped, wanting to find an ancient term for that concept, but after scratching his head and thinking for a long while, he found nothing suitable. In the end, he spoke those four words and had Zhu Di write them down.

"The means of production!"

…

Diwu Lun was not well-versed in political studies, having only reached the average level of a later-era netizen.

The class that owns the means of production essentially controls the code to society's wealth — it can decide how distribution, exchange, and consumption are carried out. This is why powerful families stand unshaken, drawing in the realm's wealth and goods like a whirlpool. And their frenzied annexation of land and purchase of slaves is precisely to concentrate the means of production and the producers in their own hands, so they can keep growing bigger and stronger.

Not to mention, powerful and wealthy households are basically the local bosses of every commandery and county, their connections tangled deep as roots, all with ties to power — some are even village Bailiffs or Precinct Chiefs themselves. They naturally have plenty of ways to shift the losses caused by currency reform onto the common folk, making the little people bear even more.

On the other hand, laborers like commoners and tenant farmers are destitute, with bare walls in their homes and relatively few physical assets. Every year, to meet tax payments, they exchange grain and cloth for currency wealth — and that currency wealth makes up a relatively large share of their total wealth.

And so, Wang Mang, that old leek farmer, with his wildly fanciful currency reforms, achieved the exact opposite of his original intent: the big leeks grew sturdy into trees that could not be cut down, while the little leeks were plucked straight into withering.

Diwu Lun summed up the two men's words: "Every time Wang Weng enacted a reform, the common people's households were ruined. They could only sell off their land or live by borrowing. Land annexation naturally grew more and more severe, and the more slaves were banned, the more there were. The common folk deeply hate the Xin, and the powerful families who profited feel no gratitude toward the court either. This being so, once the time is ripe, everyone under heaven — no matter their status — will of course rise up in rebellion against the Xin Dynasty!"

As expected of a fake transmigrator — still too young, too naive.

Diwu Lun had spoken his piece to his heart's content, thoroughly satisfying the urge. He then said to Zhu Di, "Be sure to record well these words of Giant Fan, Wang Weng, and myself. Our dynasty will sooner or later have to issue currency, and we cannot fail to learn the lessons of the previous dynasty!"

This "previous dynasty" this and "previous dynasty" that nearly made Wang Mang choke with rage again, while Fan Chong still stared at Diwu Lun with hostility. The three men had formed a subtle triangular relationship.

"You little whelp." Once Wang Mang caught his breath, he pointed at Diwu Lun and cursed, "Do you truly believe that by seizing the imperial throne, you can become a true Son of Heaven, qualified to look down from on high and pass judgment on my faults?"

Wang Mang glanced at Fan Chong and acknowledged the disastrous "crime" of his reckless currency reforms that had led to chaos, but toward Diwu Lun his expression remained stern: "I indeed made grave errors, but it is still not your turn to render judgment!"

Diwu Lun laughed up at the sky: "Correct — it is indeed not for me to determine Wang Weng's crimes."

He put his hands behind his back and walked to stand between Wang Mang and the caged Fan Chong. Pointing at Fan Chong, he said, "Giant Fan is one of the witnesses."

"As for me, I can only count as a 'county official' who gathers evidence and submits the case for judgment to the presiding judge."

Diwu Lun's words carried a double meaning. "County official" was a Han-era term for the Emperor: the counties within the royal domain were the capital itself; the king officiated over all under heaven, and so the Son of Heaven was also called the County Official.

The second layer of meaning was that since the Qin, litigation and case adjudication had followed a mature set of procedures — accusation, interrogation, deliberation, judgment, and reporting — none of which could be omitted, equivalent to later eras' filing, investigation, trial, review, and public announcement. Within this, there was also the system of submitting for judgment: when an official at one level had a major case he could not decide, he had to submit the case details and evidence upward for judgment — that is, to propose a handling opinion on the case and report it to the court for deliberation and final ruling, with the next-level official serving as presiding judge.

Diwu Lun was already an Emperor — albeit self-proclaimed. So who was the superior of the Son of Heaven?

Wang Mang instinctively raised his head and laughed heartily: "Diwu Lun, do you intend to mete out punishment on Heaven's behalf? Hah — are you even worthy?"

Even now, Wang Mang remained utterly convinced: Heaven had begotten virtue in him! He was the Uncrowned King, the true Son of Heaven! No one could drag him out of that conviction.

Diwu Lun had long known he would be like this, and merely said, "Heaven does not speak lightly."

"Those so-called auspicious omens and calamitous portents — whether they are truly Heaven's will, no one can know."

"But one thing can be certain."

Diwu Lun looked at Wang Mang and spoke the line Old Wang himself had once loved most.

"Heaven hears as our people hear!"

"Heaven sees as our people see!"

"Back then, when Wang Weng replaced the House of Han and became the Son of Heaven — was it not on precisely this basis?"

"Think back: several hundred scholars from Xindu submitted a petition to Chang'an, calling for Wang Weng to return to the court. Later, the House of Han received a petition from 487,572 common people living near Chang'an, proposing that you be granted the Nine Bestowments. And finally, a million people from Jingzhao and Luoyang spontaneously took to the streets, raising their arms in support of you replacing the House of Han and founding the Xin."

Time and again, Wang Mang had used "the people's will" to clear the path for himself. Every petition, every plea, every kowtow the common people knocked before Weiyang Palace — each was a vote cast for Wang Mang!

In Diwu Lun's view, Wang Mang could truly be called the first genuine "popularly elected Emperor" since the parting of heaven and earth!

Did he succeed because of those twelve false auspicious signs, and by trading on his reputation and clinging to the old Empress Dowager's coattails? No — he was pushed up by the very hands of the common people of the Han dynasty's final age, who yearned for a savior!

That being so, only those countless hands of the myriad people could drag him out of his illusory dream, out of that self-righteous identity of "true Son of Heaven" and "savior," and pull him back into the brutal reality that Wang Mang himself had created!

Fear — this was the first time Diwu Lun had seen that emotion in Wang Mang's eyes. The old man's hands trembled. He would rather be torn apart by chariots at Diwu Lun's order than face such an outcome.

"Wang Weng, the presiding judge who can decide your crimes —"

"— is only the people!"

This presiding judge was not the least bit rational, but instead brimmed with the emotionalism of the crowd — a great part of it muddled, going with the flow, unenlightened, foolish, a disorderly mob.

But then, that is what "democracy" is. Moreover, what Diwu Lun needed was of course not democracy itself, but the inevitable result that this democracy would produce — a fact that Wang Mang would have to accept.

Diwu Lun had made Wang Mang tremble, but he had not forgotten Fan Chong — he, too, was one of the people!

So he smiled at the great bandit and said, "Giant Fan, doesn't the Red Eyebrow Army love deciding life and death by throwing tiles?"

Diwu Lun pointed at the three men present and said, "When three walk together, one can be my teacher; I choose the good and follow it. I intend to emulate this. Over the coming months, Red Eyebrow captives, the Wei army, and over a million people from four places — Yuancheng in Weicheng Commandery, Xindu in Nanyang Commandery, Luoyang, and Chang'an — will carry out a tile-throwing judgment on Wang Weng's crimes!"

Diwu Lun said, "The emphasis in this act is fairness, and so I wish to call it…"

"A public vote!"